


The future without a moon is looking bright.

by Twilightrider, Voidgremlin



Series: New starts [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Dissociation, Gen, NOW BETAED THANK FUCK, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The apocalypse is great, Vanya is a they/them lesbian, also my lack of sleep, bc i choose to, featured awesome air-violin, thanks twilightrider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-11-24 00:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18159083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilightrider/pseuds/Twilightrider, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidgremlin/pseuds/Voidgremlin
Summary: The White Violin brought doom to this world and they will get to witness it.Vanya survives the apocalypse they brought down the first time around, they would walk with charred earth playing their solo, neither mournful or happy, last notes for the world. Were they right to brought down such misery ? To themself and whoever is fighting their way to live ?Can they fix it ?





	1. It’s a beautiful thing the destruction of world.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The White Violin does not care about the end.

Three misconceptions about the end of the world.

 

One it doesn’t stop ending.

Two it is never silent.

Three you are never alone.

 

When you understand that, you might understand what it was like for the White Violin to roams the earth on their own.

 

That night they didn’t stop playing, despite the orchestra players running away from their state, glowing bright and white. They were still standing in the Icarus theater, despite the moon meteorite hurling down toward them, destruction reasoning around them and when the noises of explosion quieted down and nothing in the city looked like anything else than rumbles and decay The White Violin stepped out of the ruins to start their 56 variations of their solo. The sun rose to its song like nothing else changed.

Vanya is not quite sure why the world was so hot, why nothing around them looked like home but the comfort of the song kept them lulled under a spell. They didn’t feel worry while looking at the destruction, they felt in control, in power, free to do whatever they felt like doing. They didn’t felt hunger or thirst even when the ashes was attacking their throat and darkening their suit, they didn’t care of the smell of burnt flesh surrounding them, all they care is the music and how pretty it sounds and how unique they were, all would listen to them, all eyes on them and…

They paused…

They kept playing.

Their body kept vibrating with all that energy, feeding them and their music. Their hair turned white with time and Vanya was a little distraught by the idea of their hair being white, but the White Violin took them back with a beautiful quaver, did it matter if what they heard was beautiful ?

As they walked down the remaining of the ruins that was once their home, their prison, sharing their voice, their story, to all, to the stars, to father whose ashes is now mixed with his beloved manor, to their siblings who are resting with the academy, where they belonged. Or so Vanya thought they were.

 

The academy destruction is not something that Vanya felt bad about, nor did the White Violin. It was like discarding away all those hurts and bad memories: Pogo knowledge but distance, Grace’s smile but cold behavior, the rigid structure of the academy strict and unwelcoming, that all went away so Vanya could breathe, their siblings didn’t understand it as they should have, willing to be part of a dying memory, Vanya discarded them too.

But they were nowhere to be seen.

The bodies were gone, they could see the rumbles turned around, trails of something heavy being dragged across the dusted land. They could see the trail leading to some soil freshly digged up, the violin bow wavered but didn’t stop.

 

They kept walking following the trail, idly, dancing by themself. Vanya never though they would feel something for this place again, they were protected, loved, by their own doing, the evil crushed. They were ok, they were playing, they were beautiful.

 

It wasn’t be the academy that brought them down, it wasn’t the body of their siblings, nor the makeshift graves awkwardly made, Luther body barely fitting, barely covered.

 

What brought them down was something really simple, a shrine in the dust, a knife, a fingerless glove, a pendant, some dog tags and a torn down page of book she refused to read. Written in a shaky handwriting and tears: here lies the umbrella academy, Five will miss you.

 

And for the last time since the beginning of the end, Vanya stopped playing and started listening.

The Apocalypse wailing and mourning brought them to tears.

 

They did this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a big project that I hope i will be able to update everyday.  
> It's gonna cover a lot, also Vanya is a beautiful wonder, i love them and white suits them not the apocalypse tho.
> 
> Song for this chapter: Vanya's orchestra, Vanya's orchestra 2 and Apocalypse.


	2. Truth is rarely desirable.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya despite being able to survive the apocalypse, is human... with a lot of fears and bad memories.

Vanya wasn’t sure when they fell asleep. To stop playing was like cutting the thread of a puppet, the dynamo that was once powering them had stopped abruptly and all the damage done to them by the harsh world took a physical and emotional toll.

They didnt know for sure how much they cried and how long they were comatose but their body was covered in bruises: the rocky ground didn’t make the nicest bed that was for sure.

It took time for Vanya to realize that their surroundings were dark and cold, they couldn’t see their own hands helping them sit up, they couldn’t see the ruins nor the violin turned white that should have fell beside her. Looking up, the sky was dressed in its blackest night, the stars seemed too far away to give any kind of warm to earth, distant speckles that were only evidence to the unsaid truth. Vanya couldn’t see it but somehow, it was missing, their eyes dumbstruck kept searching for that gigantic silver coin that should fit in the sky. It took time before the reality settles in the white haired survivor, maybe minutes, maybe hours, but the truth made their heart beats so much faster.  

There was no moon.

Who took it? They didn’t understand, it was impossible to understand. The world was … The world was too dark, too silent and Vanya felt like she was back in the basement. The dim unhelpful light making them unable to see their own self, their body shivering with cold and fear unable to move, the deafening silence of emptiness making them unable to hear anything but their heart pumping in their chest as panic settles in. Who took it? Why was everything so dark? It was impossible, unheard of.  

They tried to calm down, to breathe but the seconds between the inhalation and the exhalation felt like years, they couldn’t hold their breath so long, it was impossible; like being outside with no moon or being able to make sounds that destroy satellites… Hold on did they do it? Did they? The silence was driving them crazy.

They started screaming.

They screamed as long as their voice could hold it. The dust of that world make their throat burns. They kept screaming for someone, anyone, to help them. They wanted to open the door of that room, pleading for father to not leave them alone, that they would be a good student, a good girl, whatever he wished of them. They didn’t mean to hurt anyone nor him, the sounds were annoying, the constant requests were draining, their unbearable judgement hurt Vanya so much that the White Violin couldn’t let it go.

They were too scared to go back to this, to this punishment of isolation, of the foggy brain that didn’t allowed them to be near anyone or anything. Unable to feel as strongly as anyone else, to invest themself when they wanted to, no matter how much they tried.

When their voice went out they kept asking for attention and help, punching the rocky ground until their knuckles started bleeding, hurting, but feeling something was way better than the hurt isolation brought. They bargained to have a grasp on the world around them but the world stayed still silent.

No one to help.

No one to answer.

It was always like that, being punished for things they didn’t control, left to rot on their own, asked to pick themself up, alone with no help, with no love, with no care. But now they got rid of everyone who could put them into a bad situation again.

They were the only one here, they are the only one who held vigil on this grieving place. When the sun rose again the soft sunlights brightening Vanya’s tears. The silence was still there, cold and omnipresent, despite the short sniffles that Vanya made.

They slowly stood up, still feeling shaky and uncertain. They weren’t sure if someone was out there, if someone saw the destruction, if someone was suffering because they were dangerous and deserving of being kept in the secrecy of sedation and silent treatments, but they needed to see for themself, to be sure, to make it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big slap on that chapter : Vanya without the White Violin persona can fit so much trauma in there. It's impressive.
> 
> Music for this chapter: The End by Shlohmo


	3. To be free is to change.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apocalypse is harsh as fudge: 0/10 would not recommand.

Walking during the night was impossible but walking during the day was worse, the sun was melting their skin, the dust and ashes attacking their face. The sweat made their hair stick to their neck, suffocating them with no fail. 

 

While holding the violin, they saw broken glass on the ground, possibly from a now-nonexistent window of a now-nonexistent house, they took it, considering its weight, its shape, imitating motions like Diego would, blade close to the forearm, like an extension to ones body. They used to watch Diego playing with his own knives, admiring his skills he worked very hard to, his powers being useless in application, he was ordinary like them but still was able to participate in the Academy’s mission.

 

While messing around with the piece of glass, they decided to cut down the long hair, it will be choppy and not pretty but they didn’t cared much, the only one who cared about it was Grace, and Grace cared because Mister Hargreeves cared, cared about appearance and posture, even when you are not supposed to exist. It was suffocating, much like now under the heat of the sun. They tried to cut it but it was painfully slowly and difficult to do so. When they finished their white hair laid lifeless in their hands, it was weird to see their usually dark brown hair devoid of colors.

 

They missed it somehow, the colors but it wasn’t really in their life in the first place. It was lost between the sedation and being ignored by her cold father, the academy uniforms and their blank wrist. Nothing to belong to, nothing to stand out for, no eyes was set on them, no smiles was meant for them. Their voice shut down by their father hatred for uncontrollable. Now they could be whoever they felt like and today they felt like stupid haircut and dirty suit.

 

They stopped caring a long while about themself and about people. So they let go the strands of hair but they didn’t know what they were supposed to do now.

 

They know what happened, somehow they understand, they know the consequences of it but they can’t link it to the emotions they should be feeling. They should feel pain, guilt, shame over the destruction, sadness and mournfulness toward the people who didn’t asked to be burn to a crisp.

They know but it wasn’t really them was it ? They were just angry and wanted for once to be heard, at peace and with a song. They held tightly the white violin, wishing to feel the calm again, held it under their chin and rose the bow about to play again. They breathed in but a cough got caught in their throat, the ashes didn’t stopped falling.

 

After an heavy cough, they realized that they didn’t talk in a while, weeks maybe ? And their dry throat kept their voice stuck, not even humming was not in the realm of possibility for them.

 

They walking in the destroyed city, looking for traces of water, of life. Finding nothing but mayhem and corpses.

 

They kept walking until stumbling on the library of the town. The circular building was well known by themself and the family. As children this place a delight to be in, it was the only place allowed for official family outing, the only place that could be without arguing with father to justify their presence there. Not everyone liked it but it was a good place, a nice place.

 

It was also a ruin.

 

They tried to talk again. The memory of this place made it important.

 

"... I- ... I....."

 

At their feet, ruined books, burnt books, all covered in dust. Vanya remembered Ben running to Klaus excited about a new book and babbling about something that now interest him.

 

They parted their lips, trying their voice.

 

"I... I-I mmmm" 

 

They noticed that a few books were turned around, picked off, dusted off. They were sure that they didn’t do it. They were sure…  Then they saw Luther sneaking beside the comic shelves pretending to not read any superhero comics, smiling to himself, in secret.

 

“I’m … I”

 

They saw Allison softly chuckling in front of the bathroom mirror, far away of the security cameras of home, trying her best smiles and winning poses.

 

They saw all of their siblings, who loved this tiny island of liberty enjoying a few minutes of tranquility. They saw this, utterly destroyed, the face of their brothers and sister, crying, being miserable about it. And all they could say was in a rattled voice:   


“I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, Vanya will meet Five Clive the dumb boi, but first i gotta explain what happened in the first apocalypse.
> 
> Music for this chapter: Stars burn out by Lacunae


	4. Breathe for me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory of the past, burden of the actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the lateness. I just realized that in the first apocalypse, they didn't died in the academy and i searched for a way to fix my previous chapters without having to rewrite everything. So basically it's an au with it's own way to go to the apocalypse. FIGHT ME.  
> Also second reason for the lateness is the fact im trying to catch up sleep. You know those ?

When did it started ?

 

If they were being fair, it was when their father decided to make their power inaccessible. In another household it would have been just fine, powers is not obligatory for one self, but under Reginald Hargreeves’ watch, it was all that mattered. The day from 6am to 11pm was all about powers, training and school.

In this house you would deserve something, some attention only if you satisfied the old man with his experiments, answer quickly to his command: go faster, aim higher. As a young kid when all you know about is the nanny who pampered you, the random strangers you ate with in silence and the treatment of Reginald Hargreeves. You accept all of this as normal. 

 

Talking was never necessary, just being present for the chores, exploding some glasses was enough to make Reginald have some sort of look of approval… And it was enough to make Vanya feels loved. 

 

In some way Vanya was their power, that was how they showed happy, sad, tired, angry. They did not needed to talk to express with words what was inside their fragile body in a school uniform and their father always appreciated a show of blunt force, see with Luther. But it stopped.

 

Vanya guesses that being their own person, refusing to do again and again the stupid training and being unable to say with words, to explain eloquently why did they destroyed all the glasses.

 

They wanted to be done with it, they wanted to go back to their room, enjoying that book that number six recommended them. They didn’t wanted to focus, on that stupid tuning fork, they didn’t wanted to lose their touch with the ground. After training was always exhausting, they couldn’t focus on anything else, just sleep.

 

When Reginald grabbed their arm, first and last time he was physical, raising his voice, demanding an explanation, all they could think about was how the others in the rooms above must have heard the commotion but choose to ignore it, raised to care only about Grace’s sweet voice or their father’s. All they could think about was how their father hurted their arm and they were how so tired.

 

They didn’t said any of that, thinking that the context would be enough for Mister Hargreeves to understand. Was he not listening ? All those hours ? To the pain he caused them ? The tuning fork was still resonating in their head, Vanya had hard time to snap out of it.

 

Mister Hargreeves sent her to her room that day and they stopped training for the following week. The look on his face was one of the unfixable disappointment. The same look, Vanya supposes, Reginald would give Luther when the serum who saved his life transformed him into an hybrid of sort. Sent to the moon, in isolation where the monstrosity and the power couldn’t hurt anyone, mister Hargreeves included.

 

With some distance Vanya could see that what happened to Luther, was similar to their own treatment, their father afraid of unknowns, of uncontrollable, of unpredictable, send to isolation his most powerful assets, most devoted, kids who will love him no matter what. But Vanya learned better, Luther did too, but too late. The timing was off. Vanya thinks to themself that if Hargreeves had time and constant oversee on all the kids lives, he would have given them the same treatments. No one could please the man forever.

 

When did i started ?

 

In this version of the end of the world, the end actually started when number Five reappeared, small, like he hadn’t aged a day, lost and kinda looney. He did say he came from the future, didn’t say it ended, didn’t even mentioned he got way older than his siblings. 

 

Vanya met Leonard and was swayed by his care and love, love with intent they were well aware, but it was the only kind of love they knew and Harold was gentle enough. They loved the attention, to them and only them, felt like being a star like Allison. They didn’t give too much attention to Klaus coming back with a boyfriend, a soldier nonetheless or Mom’s death happened but they didn’t even took time to mourn her, not knowing if they would feel sad about an agent of their constant loneliness. Dad’s death was revealed to be suicide and Luther’s mission nothing of importance.

 

The turmoil of the family happened without her, no one knew what it meant to be the Hargreeves anymore, anger, disappointment, everyone tried to get back to a life that were their own, Allison wanted to get back to California, winning her little girl back. Diego got nearly convinced to go back to the police academy thanks to Eudora. Klaus left with his boyfriend living the Klaus life.

 

Meanwhile they found the red book, under that bed, beside the black sock. Knowledge, her father’s knowledge, the truth. Leonard’s true face started to show through this book, the attention, the care was all a ploy to make them hate their family. To make Vanya only need him, to be a team, to be recognised as the secret leader of the umbrella academy. It was weird.

 

It was weird, but Vanya didn’t killed him, even when they wanted to, when they felt betrayed. But they played along, because that was what the umbrella academy is about, teamwork, deceiving villains. Vanya pictured it clears as day, they would lure Leonard to the mansion, making him believe she would keep with the revenge plan, then being an hero, showing her new-found untamed power to her beloved siblings.

 

It didn’t happened that way. Everyone was so frayed by the news that everything they sacrificed for was for nothing, paranoïd, Five holed up in dad’s office. They weren’t ready to see Vanya apparently betraying them. To see another lies from their father. They wouldn’t accept it. It was too much and Leonard was killed under Luther’s fists, not heroïc, not for the well-being, just cold-blooded murder.

 

It was frightening. It was sad, all of them screaming, not understanding what was happening why did Vanya did that, that they needed to be put into jail, or controlled. Untrustworthy… But then Klaus appeared clearly winded out, blood in his hand. Blablering about two guys in a suit who kidnapped him were back to… Vanya wasn’t sure, but Klaus’ boyfriend died by their hand and wanted to do the same to their brother. 

 

Vanya stopped listening a while, the chaos was too much, the tuning fork reasoning in her head. Where did that come from ? Reginald’s office probably ? They didn’t know. They weren’t sure. Chaos worsened when the mentioned couple, arrived in the house, guns blazing. They fought, not Vanya, sitting beside Leonard’s body. Klaus fell, didn’t get up. Luther grabbed Vanya screaming at her to get away. They didn’t. They could help, they can be part of family for once. Allison screamed at them to stop the desillusions at once, that they were no family, just strangers raised under the same roof like Vanya’s book. The declaration stung. 

 

The tuning fork reasoning in their head stronger, the White Violin wanted them to stop, to just think, to breathe, why was it happening again ?

 

Vanya did blow up the academy, they think it’s because they wanted to protect them, the White Violin didn’t cared for them, they weren’t listening, they weren’t accepting, they wanted to kill Vanya, if it weren’t for Klaus, Vanya would have been more blood under Luther’s fists. The White Violin knew it, they never loved them. So now. The house is gone so if the tuning fork sounds. They were free.

 

The White Violin decided to get rid of all the pain, the outside world being part of it. They went to the Icarus Theater. They took their place as a first violin. They played their song, their masterpiece. Five was sitting in the front row, a margarita in his hand, no smile, just there listening.

 

They were always alone, in their room and always trying to better themself for others. Vanya always cared too much. The White Violin only cared about themself and that’s why they would survive, that’s why they would end this world. Make a new one for themself.

 

They didn’t realized that with no one to ignore them, being alone felt worse than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, it was a weirdly long chapter. I'm sorry if most of it doesn't make sense. I really needed it out of my system for now. I will try to edit later.
> 
> Anyway I love Vanya but gosh her lack of belief in herself and others is sad. Also yup, next chapter will be Five pov.


	5. Prideful idiocy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five is very small and has no money, how do you expect him to deal with anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back babay !
> 
> music for this one: Dawri - Ghoula.  
> Because it fits super well.

The heat was killing him, he didn’t took time to acknowledge it, to even bother shield himself from it. The heat was indeed killing him but he wouldn’t be able to do anything to it so why bother thinking about it. 

 

Days he walked in round around the town, going closer to the edge of it. So many days: Luther day, Diego day, Alli day, Klaus day, Grace day, Ben day and Van day, he went through the whole family at least three times and he wasn’t able to help but think he will most likely go through them a lot of times before being able to go back.

 

He reached the frontier of the town, again, and paused, again, pondering if it was worth staying stuck, staying put when there’s a whole world out there, with people potentially, surviving like he does, on lucky find of canned food and dead creepy crawlies. Then he turned around, again, dragging a green cart wheel, again,  with a bust of a mannequin who was not named yet along with important stuff and memorabilia. 

 

He couldn’t leave town, he doesn’t care about other people, survivors, he doesn’t want to bond with any of them, if there’s any, he doesn’t want to have to be responsible of someone or worst someone feeling responsible of him. He doesn’t want to share, his food, his knowledge, his energy and his power.

 

All he cared about was to find his family, to go back to them, no matter how annoying they can be, no matter how talkative and prone to whatever he doesn’t like. He was used to them and he wanted them back. He wanted to be back to them, so time travel will be for one use and one use only: to go back to that awful lunch, he regretted to not have eaten, grace’s passive smile, to that hell of a home, because being with them was way better than suffering alone.

 

He started humming a mournful song, to himself, calming his nervousness, anxiety about food, water, the cold night, thinking about how did they managed, if someone out there will try to kill him, or if he could survive long enough until he figures how to be back. The song that was not his, accompanied him, it was soothing, and reasuring it came back, filling the world. 

 

It’s weird to think he was glad that a mystical music was back, it stopped during the third Alli day and it kept it him up at night, paranoïd, holding the useless jammed rifle, for dogs he thoughts but it never was once used. The silence, he was not used to it, he didn’t wanted it. He tried to sing it to imitate the song of the apocalypse, to lull himself to sleep, but the rattled voice make the whole thing just haunting, he sounded like a madman. He started laughing, he did ! He Did Sounded Like A Madman. Local thirteen years-old loses all his marbles because he misses a lullaby. What a idiot. He was a such an aimless idiot. He was so so stupid for thinking he could time fucking trav-.

Someone screamed.

 

It was a howl, it was a scream. A neverending one, like someone giving everything they owned to this single act. At first he thought it was the mannequin, because he couldn’t think of any other reason of why the fuck the sand would start screaming like it just lost everything. But he realized.

 

It was like a wake up call, he stood right up, he was scared, he was happy, he was not sure about what would be the right course of action. Should he run to it ? Should he hide ? Should he ignore it and accept it as a the new lullaby of the Armageddon ? He could get used of a land that was constantly screaming. It was company. Ah.

 

He stayed there, frozen, kicking himself mentally for not acting, for not thinking, for not making any decision that mattered in the incredible event that is hearing someone screaming, when you are supposed to alone.

 

The screaming stopped and he fell on his knees. He missed it. Hurt, his knees bleeding, he started to run toward what he thought the sound came from, the darkness wasn’t helping, he ran into many and many rumbles, he was pretty sure that his hands were cut as well as everything else. He asked for someone in an hesitant voice, afraid of calling to enemy he couldn’t see. That’s how he got lost that night. And maybe, just maybe he cried for the first time.

 

He didn’t cried when he first arrived, when he called for others, he would feel the tears but he didn’t cried. He didn’t felt too much sadness when he tried to bury the overgrown body of his siblings. Too much weirded out by how much they changed, by how immense they got, the scars. He couldn’t even drag Luther body, why was he so big ? So bloody ? His face deformed by a rictus of rage. 

 

He didn’t took time to wonder why, he went to Klaus who was riddled with bullets, hands clutched near his chest. Dog tags, Five took it from him, along with other objects from his brother and sister. He didn’t understood what happened, he had theories, bombs ? War ? Cataclysmic event, global warming ? He was didn’t know and blamed himself for not knowing better.

 

He made a grave, he made a shrine, he made an half-assed eulogy, saying he would miss them even if he didn’t know them enough to feel sad. And he didn’t cried. 

 

As he dragged his stuff back to the library, he shook himself out of his memory, trying to get himself to think about solving his now present issue with time travel. And focusing on that only. The library wasn’t how he left it, someone walked there. He grabbed the rifle.

 

Today was Van day and weirdly, he wasn’t alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks yall for leaving kudos and subscribing it makes me feels really appreciated, i can't express how much joy it gives me? Just lotsa. You guys are the best.
> 
> We are at mid-point ! of the first part. But at least, there will be more dialogue and actions now. Less scenic description i love to do.  
> I love doing that but i don't quite know if the point goes accross ? Or is too heavy handed. I'm repeating myself a lot in my work lmao. Anyway just to say, im enjoying myself a lot and im glad some of you are with me on that ride. Im really thankful.


	6. Within myself someone will understand.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Incredible ! The first human interaction went without shedding blood ! Is there hope for humanity yet ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy April fools day beautifuls !! you guys are great !
> 
> Music for this one: Russian by Caravan Palace

Vanya was playing, it wasn’t the White Violin song, it wasn’t any assignment they learned in the last years, it was their song. They were trying to figure what that meant, to be there, to be themself. Vanya caused and survived the worst thing on earth because they felt betrayed by their siblings? Repeatedly. They didn’t belonged to that manor, to that academy, they weren’t wanted anywhere, near anyone. They hurt others when they tried to heal themself, they were plain trouble when they tried to help, they brought enemies to the house in order to prove their worth. Vanya was bad news but still was there, alive and playing.

They were still alive despite the lack of any substance in this land, Vanya didn’t felt hunger, nor thirst, not when they were playing at least and that was weird.

Correction they were weird, they changed a lot in that short time span, despite the sun, their skin was whiter than before, their hair was now short but white too, the suit they wore took shades of dirt and sweat and the violin without Vanya noticing took some scratch and damage. If you were attentive you could hear sand inside the soundbox.

They didn’t look like themself anymore and they were alone.

With shaky notes they tried to make sense of what was happening, Vanya is not stupid, they know stuff, they understand but it doesn’t make sense to them. At first it was because of the medication, the isolation forcing them into a fog, then it was Leonard’s attention, forcing them to listen to his word and only his word and now it was the sand around them. They didn’t had that grid, they weren’t taught how to process people outside of their bubble. They tried at least. They tried to be kind, to be part of the family, didn’t worked. It never worked and it’s always like in with their holier than thou behav-.

Focus. Vanya should focus, someone was there, they saw the bodies being moved being put into graves, they saw evidence of presence, they know there is someone out there… Or maybe they are imagining it. They do not remember taking care of their bodies, they do not remember writing a eulogy on the shrine, actually they do not remember letting go of the violin before seeing the graves, but again they have little to no control over themself.

All Vanya wanted is to start over, the anger that drove them to this day left them, the sadness that accompanied her her whole life wasn’t present, the tainted memory of love and hate within the family will follow them to the grave. 

Eyes closed, Vanya kept trying to play, uncertain, but feeling at peace. They were listening to themself. The quiet and serene theme filled up the space until something they weren’t sure to be real was happening. They were standing still so the sound couldn’t come from them yet the sound of rumble moving was there signaling someone walking toward them dragging something behind. The sound stopped and Vanya thought about opening  their eyes still afraid of the truth but they did anyway. It could been their imagination again, making them believe that somehow someone was out there, someone who didn’t wronged them and they didn’t wronged him.

In front of Vanya, Little Five, all dirty, eyebags like he never didn’t saw sleep in few days, stressed, breath caught in his throat, eyes wide. He was here after seventeen years of disappearance. Again.

Guess both of them couldn’t believe it.

They stood there, for minutes, maybe hours, the wind blowing in the background. Unsure of what they should do, as if a movement would dissipate the illusion of the other. 

“Ar- Are you…”

Vanya keep quiet, Five was shivering despite the heat, guarded but so small they weren’t sure what to say that would help the hoarse voice they heard, help the fear. It broke their heart. They made some steps forward, they weren’t really thinking, all they knew was that number Five needed some comfort, he was too small to live without anyone, without anything.

Five took a step back, looking for a way to run if Vanya turned out to be a danger, an illusion, a trick. Vanya was a danger to be truthful but to confirm their thoughts Five started rambling, breaking the silence that was overbearing:

“It happened before, it- it, I mean, I heard people and thought I saw people.” he said motioning toward the mannequin. “Never that close, never that close for sure but just, don’t do that… Please. Don’t... I don’t know if you are real”

Vanay kept walking toward him, they were, luckily, the same height. And they smiled softly, it wasn’t the smile for a happy occasion it was the smile for acceptance, they didn’t know if he was real too but:

“It doesn't matter.” They whispered, uncertain and they opened her arms for a hug.

Without a beat Five went for it. One would say it was out of character, out of the image that number Five took time build within the Academy but it didn’t mattered so they hugged.

They cried.

It was like fully realizing the extent of the pain that was caused. Five lost a lot of weight, like the version that came back four weeks ago, nearly skin and bones, skin marked with thousands of uncared for cuts, cuts from the rocks, from the winds, from the glass, from falling down in exhaustion on the ground because of the lack of bedding and care. It was typical, in that land where nothing will grow again, to have those kind of injuries. Vanya have them too. 

His burnt skin and dirty outfit make him look like he stopped caring a while back, the cartwheel was filled with canned food and non usable items. That he couldn’t gave that away, books that were filled with now nonsense, the mannequin who looked like a friend from far away, that pushed him toward a hidden reserve of food, he couldn’t let her… Let it be alone, like he was. 

He didn’t recognized the one in front of him, he felt like he knew them, but he didn’t want to trust is ever so perfect memory, he didn’t want to believe that V- was here. They were way too different.

Vanya kept still until they felt like the mourning was not needed anymore.

“You are the one who played ?” Five asked eyes stubbornly looking down.

Vanya nodded, pointed to the damaged violin.

“You are the one who screamed ?” 

Vanya nodded.

“Will you leave ?”

“... No.” They forced themself to say, it was important. They won’t leave without saying goodbye, they won’t leave without fighting to make sure that he was ok, they won’t leave if they were in pain. 

They would be here to help.

Eyes kept down, he started to think to himself, then decided to go to the cartwheel offering Vanya the flask filled with dirtied water. An offer to help each other.

“Can you play again ? It sounded nice.”

“Of course… Let’s find some place to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Its happening finally, gosh you have no idea how much i want to just kick the door and make them interact !


End file.
